Call me Ms Smith
by Lara Cox
Summary: Normally, she would have fallen in love with him. But tonight she was "Ms. Smith" and Ms. Smith doesn't fall in love with her victims.


Author's note: hi…. with 4 stories in progress and a new job I'm very busy right now… but I couldn't help write this "one shot" story.

This is a thriller based on the short tale "shatter proof", written by Jack Ritchie.

**Is not set in any particular season, and frankly, is very strange…. I didn't respected friend's plot at all (only the characters). I hope you don't mind…. Because… let's face it: I've seen even weirder stuff in this site (no offence! "weirder" is not necessary a bad thing!). You might find it odd but please… give it a chance…. **

**This is dedicated to Carina (SpaceMonkey69) because this story is not very happy, the plot is kind of original for a friend's fic (at least I haven't seen anything like this in this site) and is kind of morbid and I know she likes that in a story…. (isn't that the reason we all love her?)**

**Anyway… I will shut up now…. hope you enjoy, read and REVIEW! **

Call me Ms. Smith 

He was in his studio, making a drink to relax after a hard day, and then he heard her and turned to see her. She was a beautiful and tiny woman with a face that would make an angel jealous… but she was handling the automatic with unmistakable competence. Surprisingly, he was very calm when he realized the reason for her presence.

"It's a pity to die in ignorance…. Who hired you to kill me?"

She was rather surprised by that question, and said, very seriously…

"I could be an enemy in my own right… why do you assume somebody sent me?"

"First of all… I haven't made many enemies and, believe me… I would know if you were one of them… tell me…did my wife hired you?"

"Quite correct. Her motive must be obvious."

"Yes… I have money and she wants it…. ALL of it."

She nodded and looked at the wedding picture… then she looked at he and said…

"You were a fool if you expected anything permanent with that woman…. Mr. Bing."

"I expected a divorce after a year or two… and a painful settlement. But not death."

"Your wife is a beautiful woman, Mr. Bing… but very greedy…"

"You seem to know her very well…"

"All I can say is that she is not an stranger to me… I knew her before she hired me and I wasn't surprised when she required my services…"

His eyes went to the gun…

"You have killed before… haven't you?"

"Yes… "

"And you enjoy it… that's obvious."

"A morbid pleasure… I know that… but I do…"

"However… you have been here for three minutes and I'm still alive…"

"I'm in no hurry, Mr. Bing."

He looked at the woman with the gun… the woman who would kill him soon trying to analyze her and a realization suddenly hit him…

"You don't enjoy the actual killing… what you savor is the preceding moments. You enjoy feeling that you are the boss…"

She looked at him amazed… She would like to admire him. But of course… she can't.

"You are seeing right through me, Mr. Bing."

"So… Do I remain alive as long as I keep you entertained…?"

"Yes… within a time limit, of course…"

That meant that all he could do was play for time until he come up with an idea to get him self out of this situation alive.

"Naturally…. A drink Ms.… ?"

"Call me Ms. Smith… it requires no strain on the memory…"

"But that's not your real name."

"Of course is not…"

"If you are going to kill me I don't see why I can't know your real name… who am I going to tell? Last time I checked, dead people can't go to the police and turn on someone."

"I have my reasons for using a fake name, Mr. Bing…"

Actually, she didn't just use a fake name for protection… she needed the fake identity because her real self would never work as a hired killer.

"All right then… would you like a drink Ms. Smith?"

"Yes… thank you… an scotch on the rocks with a twist… but, please, allow me to see what you are doing when you prepare it."

"Why? Do you honestly think that I have poison conveniently at hand just in case a hired killed drops by and has a drink with me? That's hardly likely…"

"Hardly likely… but still possible."

She watched him while he made our drinks and then took a sit… he did the same.

"So… tell me… Where is my wife at this moment?"

"At a party, Mr. Bing… there will be al least 20 people that will swear she never left their sight during the time of your death…"

"Apparently my wife planned everything carefully… tell me… Will you make it look like a burglar shot me?"

"Yes. After I shoot you, I will, of course, wash this glass and return it to your liquor cabinet. And when I leave I'll wipe all the fingerprints from the doorknobs I have touched."

"Will you take most of my valuable things with you to make the burglar story more believable?"

"That won't be necessary, the police will assume that the burglar panicked after he killed you and ran off empty handed."

"You could take that painting that's on the wall… it's worth thirty thousand dollars."

Her eyes went to the painting for a moment, and then returned to him quickly.

"That's a tempting idea… but I don't want to possess anything that might even remotely link me to you. I appreciate art, specially its monetary value, but I wouldn't risk dying by a lethal injection for it. Or… were you perhaps offering me the painting in exchange for your life?"

"It was a thought…"

"I'm sorry Mr. Bing… Once I accept a job I'm not dissuaded. It's a matter of professional pride."

He gave her a curious look… luckily for him she was taking a lot of time to do her job. But why was that? What was she waiting for?

"Are you waiting for me to show fear, Ms. Smith?"

"You will show it sooner or later"

"And then you will kill me?"

She smiled and her face started showing some satisfaction.

"It sucks… doesn't it? To be scared and not daring to show it."

"Do you expect your victims to beg you for their lives?"

"They always do…."

"They appeal to your humanity… And that is hopeless?"

"Completely hopeless."

"Do they offer you money?"

"Always."

"Is that hopeless too?"

"So far it has been, Mr. Bing."

"Look… behind the painting, there is a wall safe… it contains five thousand dollars."

"That's is a lot of money… but…"

He picked up his glass and went to the painting. He opened the safe and took a brown envelope. Then finished his drink and putted the empty glass in the safe and closed it. Then he putted then envelope right in front "Ms. Smith".

"Here you have…"

"Did you actually think you could buy your life?"

I lit a cigarette and she looked at it with disgust.

"No… I know that you are, shall we say, incorruptible."

"But you still brought me the 5 thousand dollars?"

"I didn't… that envelope contains old receipts… all completely valueless for you."

Felling very irritated, she opened the envelope and saw that he was telling the truth.

"What do you think this has possibly gained you?"

"The opportunity to go to the safe and put the glass you touched in it."

She stared at him in shock… then she saw the glass in front of her and shook her head.

"You put YOUR glass in the safe… not mine…"

"It was your glass, Ms. Smith. And I imagine that the police will wonder what is an empty glass doing in my safe… and I believe, since this will be a case of murder, that they will have the intelligence to take fingerprints."

"I haven't taken my eyes of you… you couldn't have switched our glasses."

"Really? I recall that you looked at the painting at least twice…."

Automatically, she looked at that direction again.

"But only for a second or two."

"It was enough."

"The glass I touched can't be the one in the safe. It's impossible…"

"I guess then that you will be very surprised when the police come for you. And you will have the opportunity of facing death by the lethal injection… I wonder how that will go… you have probably pictured yourself meeting death with calmness and showing no emotion. But I'm afraid you will be disappointed… chances are that they will have to drag you to the execution room… and you will be crying…"

Her face tensed and her fingers seemed to tighten on the trigger.

"Open that safe now… or I will kill you!"

"Come on, Ms. Smith! We both know that you will surely kill me if I DO open the safe."

Now, she was the one scared.

"What are you planning to do with the glass?"

"If you don't murder me, and I think you won't now, I will take it to a private detective agency and have your fingerprints reproduced. Then, I will put them, along with a note containing pertinent information, inside a sealed envelope. And I will leave instructions that if I die violently, even if it seems like an accident, the envelope must be send to the police."

Ms. Smith looked at him and then took a breath. He was so witty, so clever… he had her in his hands. She couldn't kill him now… not with her fingerprints in the safe and she wont be able to kill him in the future… She was amazed. She had to admire him.

"All that won't be necessary… I will leave now and you will never see me again."

"I think will stick to my plan anyway. It provides me protection for my future."

"Why don't you turn me on to the police directly?"

"I have my reasons… Mon…"

Monica startled… he did remember her after all. She didn't expect him too… after all those years. But how did he recognize her? The last time they saw each other she was still very fat and looked very different. After the shock, she looked at her gun and slowly put it in her pocket. Then and idea came to her.

"Rachel could very easily hire someone else to kill you…"

"Yes… she could do that…"

"If she does… I would be accused of your death…"

"Yes… you would…"

She was stating to freak out…

"But I would be paying for a crime I didn't do…"

"Isn't that ironic?"

"That's not fair… I could end up with a death penalty even if somebody else kills you."

"I image so… UNLESS…. my wife were unable to hire anyone."

"But there are probably a dozen other…."

She stopped… understanding suddenly what he meant when he said "Unable to hire anyone". He smiled at her.

"Did my wife tell you where she is now?"

"She just said that party is at her parent's house… she will leave at eleven."

"Eleven? That's a good time… It will be very dark tonight. Do you know the address?"

"No…"

"Is in Long Island…"

He wrote down the address in a piece of paper and gave it to her, who took it hesitating.

"And were will you be at eleven, Mr. Bing?"

"At my best friend's house… he will say that I was with him all the time… and I will be with him when they tell me that my wife has been…. Shot?"

"It all depends on the circumstances and the opportunity… tell me… Did you ever love her?"

He picked up a jade figurine and examined it.

"You know? I was extremely fond of this piece when I first bought it… then I discovered that it's a fake and now it bores me."

Then she was gone. He had just enough time to take the glass to a detective agency before he went to his friend's house. But not the glass in the safe, of course, it had nothing but his own fingerprints. He took the one that "Ms. Smith" left on the table. Her fingerprints developed quite clearly.

**The end. **

**Please! send me some reviews! **


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